But each in peaceful order still obey.
LXI.
So all the glories of my reign shall share,
So all be still in poets songs renown’d,
So shall my Zephyr still with gentlest air,
Wave o’er your beds, with bloom eternal crown’d.
LXII.
And you, who not for pow’r, but beauty’s charms,
For gaudy tints, still fiercely would contend;
What envious fire such gentle bosoms warms?